Going To Bed Lonely Quotes & Sayings

And so, finding that, for once, I was not sorry to be alone, I said to myself: I am happy. Perfectly happy, I repeated, as my eyes roamed wide over the brilliant desolate sea and the empty contours of the land. Were they, after all, searching for something that was lacking? I hardly knew. A tiny obstinate figure by the dwarf obelisk under an enormous sky, I declared for the third time: I am absolutely happy, absolutely content. And, increasingly overcome by a profound melancholy which I interpreted simply as an appetite for supper I began to walk downhill, towards my sitting room, my holiday task and my lonely bed. — Christopher Isherwood

Tears flood in you
your eyes burning
your heart scars with my name scratched deep
My face is gone
my heart betrayed by your lullabies
I'm a shadow of a girl inside
Hands are touching you
nothing takes the place of you
Heart wrench, weeps goodbye
Lullabies, beautiful and trusting
Barely breathing as they break into dust
Lonely corners me
Sweeps me off my feet
Shows me it was better for me
Fingertips holding close
your grip not as soft
Follows me to an empty bed
I can't stop the weakening of my soul
my body is dying
your tune is holding my mind
Let me go
see what I do
No control
No you
You whisper your sweet goodbye
If it is small it won't interrupt my sleep
But my heart you keep
You say it's for me
But who would be happy?
Alone left out in the cold — Mercy Cortez

He's only slept with us when he's cold and lonely."
"Isaboe, he is a hound. He will feign loneliness the rest of his life just to lie on this bed,. My bed. I was the king of this bed. — Melina Marchetta

Freedom was what we had. Nobody told us when to go to bed. Nobody told us to do our homework. Nobody told us we couldn't drink two six-packs of Budweiser and then throw up in the Maytag. So why did we feel so trapped? Why did I feel like I had no options in my life when it seemed that options were the only thing I DID have? — Augusten Burroughs

No one ever has the answers you need, the ones you want most, the ones you whisper as you lay alone in your bed with the lights extinguished and the lonely ache of loss settling in. — Lee Thompson

She stepped toward Anna.
"I can get you a night with an accomplished male whore or a virginal schoolboy." Coral's eyes widened and seemed to flame. "Famous libertines or ragpickers off the street. One very special man or ten complete strangers. Dark men, red men, yellow men, men you've only dreamed of in the black of night, lonely in your bed, snug under your covers. Whatever you long for. Whatever you desire. Whatever you crave. You have only to ask me."
Anna stared at Coral like a mesmerized mouse before a particularly beautiful snake. — Elizabeth Hoyt

Not really. I'm tired and I'd like to go to bed."
"At last, we agree on something." He moved toward her.
"Oh, no, you don't. I'm saving myself for my future husband."
"Thank you."
"It won't be you," she told him doggedly. "I'm not crazy enough to think that. You aren't a marrying man, remember? You don't want commitment."
"I don't know what I want anymore," he muttered.
"Well, I do," she said. "I want to go home."
"To a lonely apartment in Chicago?"
"It won't be lonely long," she assured him. "I'm going to start my very own lonely hearts chapter."
"Over my dead body."
"Nobody would want to meet over your old dead body. — Diana Palmer

You're not the only one's been lonely, Emme, hoping the right one will come along so you don't go home to an empty house and climb into an empty bed. — Kristen Ashley

London was a city of ghosts, some deader than others.
Thorne knew that in this respect, it wasn't unlike any other major city - New York or Paris or Sydney - but he felt instinctively that London was ... at the extreme. The darker side of that history, as opposed to the parks, palaces and pearly kings' side that made busloads of Japanese and American tourists gawk and jabber. The hidden history of a city where the lonely, the dispossessed, the homeless, wandered the streets, brushing shoulders with the shadows of those that had come before them. A city in which the poor and the plague-ridden, those long-since hanged for stealing a loaf or murdered for a shilling, jostled for position with those seeking a meal, or a score, or a bed for the night.
A city where the dead could stay lost a long time — Mark Billingham

Before drifting away entirely, he found himself reflecting
not for the first time
on the peculiarity of adults. Thet took laxatives, liquor, or sleeping pills to drive away their terrors so that sleep would come, and their terrors were so tame and domestic: the job, the money, what the teacher will think if I can't get Jennie nicer clothes, does my wife still love me, who are my friends. They were pallid compared to the fears every child lies cheek and jowl with in his dark bed, with no one to confess to in hope of perfect understanding but another child. There is no group therapy or psychiatry or community social services for the child who must cope with the thing under the bed or in the cellar every night, the thing which leers and capers and threatens just beyond the point where vision will reach. The same lonely battle must be fought night after night and the only cure is the eventual ossification of the imaginary faculties, and this is called adulthood. — Stephen King

Stop crying. Stop sitting in the dark counting out all your individual feelings about how sad and lonely you are. Wake up ( ... ) You're not the only person in this world who doesn't want to get out of bed in the morning ( ... ) You can be whoever the hell you want to be now ( ... ) So make a choice. Make a choice and stop wasting everyone's time. Stop eating your own time. Okay? — Tahereh Mafi

I'm not lonely, and I think that has a lot to do with what's on my bedside table rather than what's in my bed. — Michelle Williams

From midnight to 4: 00 AM is the loneliest time in the world. Because for those of us too sad to sleep, the only thing we have to look at is an empty bed, and the only thing we have to think of is every single person who didn't want to fill it tonight. — Lone Alaskan Gypsy

I had no friends. Was I happy? I was wildly happy. Sitting on my bed, which took up most of the space in that narrow room, I whispered prayers of thanks that I was really and truly here in New York, beginning another life. I worshipped the place. I feasted on every beautiful inch of it - the crowds, the fruit and vegetable stands, the miles of pavement, the graffiti, even the garbage. All of it sent me into paroxysms of joy. Needless to say, my elevation had an irrational cast to it. Had I not arrived laden with ideas of urban paradise, I might have felt bad losing sleep, might have felt lonely and disoriented, but instead I walked around town like a love-struck idiot, inhaling the difference between there and here. — Siri Hustvedt

My mind went back to that picture in the obstetrics book. A cow standing in the middle of a gleaming floor while a sleek veterinary surgeon in a spotless parturition overall inserted his arm to a polite distance. He was relaxed and smiling, the farmer and his helpers were smiling, even the cow was smiling. There was no dirt or blood or sweat anywhere.
That man in the picture had just finished an excellent lunch and had moved next door to do a bit of calving just for the sheer pleasure of it, as a kind of dessert. He hadn't crawled shivering from his bed at two o'clock in the morning and bumped over twelve miles of frozen snow, staring sleepily ahead till the lonely farm showed in the headlights. He hadn't climbed half a mile of white fell-side to the doorless barn where his patient lay. — James Herriot

It's lonely to listen to the pleasure of others, not that I've made a habit of that kind of eavesdropping. There's joy and passion in the next room, in the next bed, but it's not yours. — Ben Marcus

The creak of bed springs suffering under the weight of a restless man is as lonely a sound as I know. — Patrick DeWitt

Dad used to read to me before bed when I was little, and if we heard the whistle, Dad would say, 'A train's coming to bring you good dreams.'
Tonight the whistle just sounds lonely. I don't think I'm going to be falling asleep anytime soon. — Rachel M. Wilson

When a bloke takes you out for a meal You'd think sex would be part of the deal Not a pat on the head And a cold lonely bed When he leaves without copping a feel — J.L. Merrow

Excuse me? Tonight you represent every dateless woman in this city, every woman who's about to sit down to a lonely meal of Weight Watchers past primavera she's just nuked in the microwave. Every woman who will get into bed tonight with a book or reruns of Sex and the City as her only companion. You are our shining hope ... But no pressure. — Nora Roberts

A churel is the peculiarly malignant ghost of a woman who has died in child-bed. She haunts lonely roads, her feet are turned backwards on the ankles, and she leads men to torment. — Rudyard Kipling

He stretched out on the bed and was suddenly struck by how utterly lonely he was. — Tim LaHaye

This was the first living creature I had ever loved passionately, because he returned my affection. My love for the animal was, no doubt, exaggerated and ridiculous.I has a vague idea that in some way we were brothers, both lost in life, both lonely and defenseless. He never left me,slept at foot of my bed, was fed in the dining-room in spite of my parents' protests and he came with me on my solitary walks. — Guy De Maupassant

The Love of a lonely wolf,
full of secrets and strange midnights-
drawn out of the darkness
from hills thick with black oaks
valleys riddled with riddles-
that love is sharper than a bed of thistles;
each kiss pares away flesh.

The love of a wolf
can eat you up all the better. — Sandra Kasturi

Half happy. We wander among Mayflowers, among the lonely paths in the woods. We hover over gatherings of people, over the scene of accidents, gardens, festivals. We cower in chimneys of dwelling places and behind the bed curtains. Give me your hand. We don't associate with each other, but we see and hear everything that is going on in the world. We know that everything is stupidity, everything that men do and contend for, and we laugh at it. — Frank Wedekind

The lonely season in lonely lands, when fled Are half the birds, and mists lie low, and the sun Is rarely seen, nor strayeth far from his bed; The short days pass unwelcomed one by one. — Robert Bridges

It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed. — Laura McBride

We have forgotten love, and Sat lonely beside each other. We have eaten together, Lonely behind our plates, we Have hidden behind children, We have slept together in A lonely bed. Now my heart Turns toward you, awake at last, Penitent, lost in the last Loneliness. Speak to me. Talk To me. Break the black silence. — Kenneth Rexroth

Friends will keep you sane, Love could fill your heart, A lover can warm your bed, But lonely is the soul without a mate. — David Pratt

I know you want to fuck me. And I know you wish you didn't. So how about we compromise and you can sit here and say, 'No, Nora,' 'Don't, Nora,' 'Stop, Nora,' and I'll ignore all those protests and slide right down on your cock anyway? And I'll do it because no and don't and stop aren't your safe word. So you can finally get fucked and still sleep like a baby in your big lonely bed tonight feeling all clean and shiny and virginal because, after all, you did say 'no' and that awful Nora Sutherlin just wouldn't listen. — Tiffany Reisz

One time you mentioned the loneliness inside of marriage and I did not understand what you were saying. Two people are together; they have come from the same place; they share the same values, the same language. Practically speaking, they are the two halves of one consciousness. They eat the same food; they have a child; they sleep in the same bed, how can they be lonely. — Bharati Mukherjee

She had not had a question like that in her mind before. It had made her feel lonely. She wanted to be alone, but not lonely. That was very different; that was something that ached and hurt dreadfully right inside one. It was what one dreaded most. It was what made one go to so many parties; and lately even the parties had seemed once or twice not to be a perfectly certain protection. Was it possible that loneliness had nothing to do with circumstances, but only with the way one met them? Perhaps, she had thought, she had better go to bed. She couldn't be very well. She — Elizabeth Von Arnim

I didn't feel old enough to be anyone's wife, or that I knew enough or had lived enough, or understood the essential things. I didn't know how to say any of this to Jock, either. That I was afraid of the promises we'd made. That late at night as I lay beside him in bed I felt lonely and numb, as if some part of me had died. — Paula McLain

In the struggle to remain a complete person and to love from her fullness instead of her inadequacy a woman may appear hard. She may feel her early conditioning tugging her in the direction of surrender, but she ought to remember that she was originally loved for herself; she ought to hang on to herself and not find herself nagging, helpless, irritable and trapped. Perhaps I am not old enough yet to promise that the self-reliant woman is always loved, but she cannot be lonely as long as there are people in the world who need her joy and her strength, but certainly in my experience it has always been so. Lovers who are free to go when they are restless always come back; lovers who are free to change remain interesting. The bitter animosity and obscenity of divorce is unknown where individuals have not become Siamese twins. A lover who comes to your bed of his own accord is more likely to sleep with his arms around you all night than a lover who has nowhere else to sleep. — Germaine Greer